HARK!
Welcome to the Summer of 2021, which promises to be the intersection of euphony and cacophony.
When you throw a bunch of creatives -- musicians, writers, artists and fanatics various -- into a jar, firelock the lid and say, “Just lay low for a bit, we’re closing up everything until further notice” expect that jar to ferment (fester?) into a volatile, combustible mix.
As it did in many other places, that’s what happened in HARK Valley.
But now, a fuse is being laid out to that explosive jar, where vacuum-bottled creatives are bouncing off each other like molecules.
And it’s about to get lit …
God is perhaps rueing the night He/She/They (theologians: true or false?) allowed Robert Johnson to sell his soul to the Devil; then again, if God made a solid counter-offer, we might be stuck with Muzak and Gospel music ...
Anyway, rumor has it God ordered noise-canceling earphones on whatever A-list version of Amazon heaven has.
Meanwhile, as HARK Valley prepares for full-speed-ahead opening, Satan is pre-gaming like the madman He/She/They (fair is fair) is; after taking a victory lap for creating the COVID, in the quiescent days of the pandemic, Ol’ Scratch was surely howling, “This is boring as Church!”
Now, the horned one is scheming endless temptations around HARK Valley, to be officially kicked off when the first mike-checker booms:
“Phoenix, are you ready to parrrrr-tay?”
Although the sarcastics will answer, “No, dude -- I thought this was my Chess Club,” the rest of crowds will solemnly respond, “F*CK yeah!”
This is probably as good a time as any to explain what, where and how HARK Valley is.
Though you won’t find it on a map, HARK Valley is a not-quite-mythical land bordered by Apache Junction to the south and New River to the north, sweeping across all of Phoenix and any nearby city, town or splash of desert that has a decent venue.
Or, for that matter, an indecent one. Indeed, except for a few glammy places we won’t mention, HARK Valley is littered with de-luxe dives, the kind of places where they do serve espresso martinis -- but with an eye roll.
HARK Valley is ruled by bleary (if not beery) bar bands, pissed poets, aggrieved artists, rejected writers and various parboiled performers.
The rest of us here are the plebians, and we haven’t heard from our Senators in too long …
Now, you can hear amps crackling to life, guitar players loosening up with “Smoke on the Water,” singers spitting out first-rehearsal cackles and drummers doing what drummers do - playing TOO DAMNED LOUD.
Some venues, like the glorious-but-earthy Crescent Ballroom downtown and Nile Theater in Mesa, are not quite ready to put butts in seats.
Others took the perennially-confused governor’s order (“OK, everyone back to normal - but be safe, and wear a mask or not, and don’t forget to social distance unless you don’t feel like it …”) to translate into two words:
Game ON!
What the Hell Bar & Grill (you can’t beat that name, unless you’re Raymond Chandler), Rebel Lounge and Yucca Tap Room, just to name three, are back to serving beer and bands (and, often as not, beer to bands).
Then there’s Cave Creek, that outlier to the north. (Cave Creek Music is a great place to see what's happening up younder.)
Just north of the Phoenix city line, Cave Creek is a town of its own, and makes its own rules. There’s a Wild West feel to Harold’s Corral, the Buffalo Chip Saloon and other joints -- and it runs far deeper than kitsch.
Back when you could almost see COVID clouds, circa the Winter of 2020, there were two questions you didn’t ask, around Cave Creek:
“Is that thing loaded?”
“Hey, with all the restrictions and what-not everyone else is following, how come everyone here is drinkin’ and dancin’ and swappin’ spit without masks on?”
Either one would get you shot.
Anyway, the couple dozen live music venues from Janey’s to the Raven's View are plugged in and ready for partiers.
More on what’s going on in the north, south and central HARK Valley coming soon.
The next newsletter edition will focus on poetry slams and other literary operations getting lit.